


If You Only Had Time

by Glowbug, TheMockingJ3



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: AU, Gen, Hoogland, Mother-Daughter Relationship, The Nest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-01-09 06:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12270642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glowbug/pseuds/Glowbug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMockingJ3/pseuds/TheMockingJ3
Summary: On the rare occasions that Rachel had suggested leaving the Nest (and Targent) Leon would argue that travelling could compromise her health. She had been so ill… and depressed three years ago. However, her health had improved in leaps and bounds since Emmy entered their lives—There was a bang. For a second, Rachel thought it was bullet fire, but then:“Aunt Rachel!”Emmy burst into the room. Her tiny body was shaking. Her breathing was ragged. Her face was streaked with tears.When her husband's obsession with the Azran reaches frightening extremes, Rachel Bronev takes eight-year-old Emmy and runs. AU in which Rachel is alive.





	1. Chapter 1

Uncle Leon was going to the Obsidian Tower every day now. Emmy knew this because she’d been sneaking out after him.

She wasn’t allowed in the tower. Her uncle had explained that the Commander wasn’t too fond of eight-year-old girls (even if they _were_ ninjas-in-training). She wasn’t supposed to leave the barracks, either, but even Aunt Rachel was getting impatient with how cooped up they’d been lately. Emmy was _bored._ And Uncle Leon kept going to the tower.

So she’d gotten up three hours early, stuffed her bed with pillows, and climbed out her window with a plan. She’d slipped into the tower, crawled past the guard station on her hands and knees, climbed about eight hundred million stairs and finally curled up in something that looked like a giant Azran flowerpot, right there in the Commander’s deserted office.

She’d have been proud of herself, except that it turned out hiding in giant pots got boring very quickly. She was nearly asleep when she heard voices.

“— _told_ you he’d refuse,” a man was saying. “Sycamore’s been a thorn in our side for _years!”_

“Yes. Well, he’s dealt with.” Uncle Leon. But sounding so mean, like a snowball down the back of her neck.

The door opened. Emmy held her breath.

“I have to say I’m impressed, Bronev,” the other voice said. “Considering your personal connections…”

“It’s not _my_ fault my son grew up to be a soft-hearted fool,” Uncle Leon snarled. “But without his wife and precious little girl, he’ll crumble like mud brick. I supervised the executions personally _.”_

_Precious little girl._ His audible disdain was like a kick in the chest. _Executions,_ Emmy thought. _That’s when they lock you up in jail and cut your head off. But Uncle Leon wouldn’t… would he?_

A cabinet hinge creaked, frighteningly close to her hiding spot. “Most officers wouldn’t have followed through on a threat to their own kin,” the other voice remarked approvingly. Emmy curled into a ball.

“I’m of sterner stuff than that, Commander. It’s as you’ve always said: we cannot allow _anything_ to compromise our objective.”

There was a _clink,_ and a _pop,_ and someone poured a glass of something. “You have demonstrated that admirably,” the commander said. “We’ll still have to bring Sycamore into the fold, of course.”

“He should have no remaining outside attachments,” Uncle Leon replied.

“Not his brother?”

“No. They haven’t spoken in years; I think Theodore’s forgotten him entirely.”

“Then it should be simple to recruit him—or eliminate him, if necessary.”

“Yes, Commander.”

The drink-pourer—the commander?—poured another glass. “Oh, I think we can drop the formalities, Leon, don’t you? Now that you’ve proven yourself capable of being our next leader.”

_“Sir.”_ Uncle Leon’s voice swelled, the way it did when Emmy was extra good at her ninja lessons. “I’m honored.”

“You should be. You’ve come a long way since we brought you here. Sit, sit.” Glasses clinked. “To the legacy of the Azran.”

“To the great legacy we will one day unlock.”

There was more talk after that, much more, but Emmy put her hands over her ears.

_Uncle’s son. Little girl. Executions._ The words spun around and around her brain like socks in the dryer. She dared not make a sound, but she couldn’t stop shaking.

Her cheeks were wet.

_Uncle Leon’s a murderer._

* * *

 

Rachel couldn’t help smiling at the distinctly pillow-shaped lump in Emmy’s bed. Hadn’t Theodore tried something similar with a pile of cuddly toys? He had been four… or five…

Leon believed Emmy was too old for toys now.

The stench of industrial fumes, inescapable no matter where you were in the Nest, drew Rachel to the open window. One benefit of Rachel’s poor health when they first moved in was being placed on the ground floor. (Emmy didn’t have to climb down from five levels—thank goodness!)

No sign of Emmy outside. She would have been impossible to miss, despite the smog looming over the streets, because they were boxed in by other buildings. The barracks were considered upscale by the Nest’s standards and yet one could still see grime beneath the golden bricks if they squinted.

There was a clatter from the street corner. Rachel turned her head. It was just a cat, roaming through a dustbin. She sighed.

At least if Emmy had snuck out, it meant she didn’t have training today. Rachel wasn’t particularly worried—Emmy was precocious and protected by Leon’s rising rank within Targent. Emmy deserved this short space of freedom. Leon seemed to forget she was an eight-year-old girl, not a puppy in need of discipline.

…An eight-year-old girl who refused to make her bed. Shaking her head, Rachel stripped the pillows and the sheets. It was the fifth time this week she had done the washing, but since they were messy anyway…

She busied herself with filling the washing machine. They didn’t have a utility room, but the kitchen was large enough. Emmy could have slept in the fridge if she pleased. (Rachel wouldn’t put it past her.) All of their appliances were ‘state-of-the-art’… especially the dishwasher. They hadn’t had one of those in their old country house.

Rachel gazed into the drum of the machine. Targent could give them everything they needed, as Leon often reminded her, but she would never consider this her home.

She wiped her eyes—the washing powder was making them sore!—and turned on the machine. The succeeding  _whirr_ couldn’t drown out the silence Rachel felt. Without Emmy bouncing around, the walls seemed to be closing in on her.

They were the only occupants of the barracks aside from one archeologist’s elderly father. (Rachel had visited him once but he barely noticed she was there.) Targent had an explicit lack of female company.  

On the rare occasions that Rachel had suggested leaving the Nest (and Targent) Leon would argue that travelling could compromise her health. She had been so ill… and depressed three years ago. However, her health had improved in leaps and bounds since Emmy entered their lives—

There was a bang. For a second, Rachel thought it was bullet fire, but then:  

_“Aunt Rachel!”_

Emmy burst into the room. Her tiny body was shaking. Her breathing was ragged. Her face was streaked with tears.

“Emmy—!”

Rachel was nearly bowled over as Emmy buried her head in her chest. Her hand softly stroked Emmy’s hair, but her voice was hard as industrial steel. “What happened?”

A thousand explanations flooded Rachel’s mind: She had gotten caught in a fight, she had seen an agent shooting a stray dog, she had been shouted at for trespassing…

Emmy’s words were muffled against her blouse. Rachel moved back slightly and asked her again. Emmy sniffled and repeated, “Uncle Leon’s a murderer.”

She had spoken clearly this time, but her statement made Rachel’s head spin. “L-Leon…?” Rachel breathed. Was she hearing things now? Had the city fumes finally gotten to her?  

Emmy nodded. “I heard him talking… to the c-commander.”

The same man who had them dragged out of their home, thirteen years ago. “When?  _Where?”_

“Obsi… Obside— The  _tower!_  I followed him up there—”

“You didn’t see—?” Rachel choked off. Had Emmy witnessed an execution? Had Leon –  _her_ Leon – executed someone right in front of her? 

“N-no. I was hiding in a flowerpot and I h-heard them…” She let out a whimper.

“Please, Emmy,” Rachel begged, gripping her arms. “I know it’s scary, but you have to tell me! I won’t let Leon find out—”

“It was his…  _your_ son,” Emmy whispered. “His wife and his little girl.”

Rachel held her shaking hands to her mouth. “No…” She searched Emmy’s eyes for the slightest bit of uncertainty – anything that would suggest she was mistaken or insincere. Leon had been teaching her to mask her emotions— _Why?—_ but Emmy had never gotten the hang of it. Rachel  _wished_ she was lying in that moment.

Her eyes were as clear as starlight. Her lip was wobbling. Her next words were a sob.  

“I’m  _sorry,_  Auntie—“  

Rachel pulled Emmy back into a hug, partly to hide her own tears. Small arms wrapped around her neck, clinging to her as her sons had once done.

_Hershel_ must have been the one they had targeted. Theodore was living in a small village with his adoptive parents when Targent had checked on him, three years ago… or so, Leon had claimed. Had he been lying to her for all these years?        

Where was Hershel now? Was he injured? Would he be brought to the Nest if he was caught?

She could find a way to free him—plead with Leon…

No. Leon was past the point of reason. Why would he hesitate to kill Hershel, after killing his own daughter-in-law and his grandchild?

Would he punish  _Emmy_ if he discovered she had been spying?

Rachel’s grip tightened around Emmy. She breathed in her ear, “We need to get out of here.”

“W-what?”

“Emmy…”  _You brave, wonderful girl…_ “Go and pack your things. Quickly, now.”


	2. Chapter 2

Emmy had never known that running away from home was a thing grownups sometimes did, too.

She set her hippo backpack on her bed and looked around her bedroom. The window was still open from earlier, but Aunt Rachel had put all her sheets in the wash.

 _No suitcase,_  Aunt Rachel had said. _Just take what can go in your backpack._

_Where are we going?_

_I don’t know yet. It’ll be an adventure._

_Are we ever coming back, Aunt Rachel?_

_…No, sweetheart. I’m sorry._

Just what she and Holly the Hippo could carry. Just her very most favorite things because she was never coming back for the rest of them.

It was scary.

She put in all her prettier socks (the striped ones, and the yellow ones, and the ones with animals on them…) and six pairs of underwear, because Aunt Rachel had reminded her not to forget those things. She put in her zebra pajamas and her fuzzy leggings and the shirt with the yellow stripes on it. She almost put in her favorite sweater, but decided to wear it instead.

Her karate clothes wouldn’t fit. Emmy  _liked_  karate. But maybe she wouldn’t get to take any more lessons. She put the clothes back in the drawer.

Her ninja ballerina bunny wouldn’t fit either. But if they weren’t coming back… “Aunt Rachel?” she called out.

Footsteps. Aunt Rachel appeared in the doorway, holding both their toothbrushes. “What is it, Emmy?”

“C-Can I bring Stella?” She held up the tutu-clad rabbit.

Aunt Rachel gave her a hug. “Of  _course_  bring Stella.” She smelled of ginger and laundry soap and a faint whiff of photo-developing chemicals. “Are you ready?” she asked.

Emmy snuggled against her and nodded.

* * *

   


All of Rachel’s belongings had been lost the day they were abducted by Targent. She hadn’t procured any keepsakes during her time at the Nest besides some gifts from Emmy and Leon.

For her birthday last year, Leon had given her an SLR with her name engraved into it.

She held the camera now, tracing her fingers across her… _his_ name.  _Rachel Bronev._ She wanted to leave it behind—everything linking her to him—but she would need a quick form of generating income while they were on the run. Photography was her best bet.

She put the camera in her shoulder bag and tested the strap. It wasn’t that heavy. She had packed a change of clothes, emergency medicine, snacks, a map of Europe, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and every last coin she could salvage from their house. They would buy more substantial supplies when (if) they reached the next town.

Her most precious treasure, of course, was Emmy. As soon as they were done packing, she took Emmy’s hand and walked out the door, never looking back. Rachel’s first inclination was for them to stow away on an airship. If they were caught on board, however, it would be obvious they were trying to escape.

They needed a less suspicious way out—like the train. There was a station near the landing strip. She and Emmy could take the tram system; it went all over the city, carrying passengers and deliveries.

They received some strange glances during their ride—children were considered a novelty in the Nest—but no hassle. When they arrived at the transit center, there were several agents buzzing around. Rachel tried to keep a casual air as she and Emmy crossed the moss-covered stones to the train station. They hadn’t done anything wrong… yet.

The station was rusty red and poorly lit, as if they were entering the maw of a dragon. Their only way out was through the belly of the beast.

A train was about to leave, but the platform was guarded by four Targent agents. This would be the hardest part—getting past the city’s border patrol.

Rachel squeezed Emmy’s hand, held her head high and approached them.

“Names?“ one man asked. His voice was rough with a Russian accent.

"Rachel and Emmeline Bronev.” It was the last time they would use those names.

The man stood a little straighter. “And where are you going?”

“Shopping,” Emmy said, utterly straight-faced. He glanced from her to Rachel.

“There are some things we need that are only available in Vernutzad,” Rachel explained. “You can check with my husband if—“

“No, no, that won’t be necessary. Have a safe trip.”

They didn’t even search their bags…

Rachel released a sigh of relief as they stepped onto the train. She and Emmy took a seat near the doors, away from any other passengers.

When the train had left the station, she smiled warily at Emmy. “Well done. You were very brave back there.”

Emmy gave her a gap-toothed grin in return. “We did it!”

Rachel’s smile wavered. She looked out the window, but there was only darkness as they travelled underneath the Nest. Who knew where they were going?

They could no longer rely on Leon’s authority for protection. He might have a number of enemies outside Targent—vengeful people who had lost their families…

She pulled her camera out of her bag, studying the inscription again.

Emmy noticed it. “Are we going to have to change our names?” she whispered.

“Just our surname, I think. Do you want to pick one?”

Emmy nodded. She was thoughtful for a few moments. Then she regarded Stella.

“Al…tava?”

Rachel wondered if Stella had provided some inspiration, or if it was close to Emmy’s previous surname. (Leon had never told her…)

“Rachel and Emmy Altava. I like it.”

Within twenty minutes, the train emerged from a tunnel and their carriage was flooded with light. The clouds above suddenly seemed whiter, untainted by the Nest, and there were trees alongside the tracks. It was a bit colder too, but it was refreshing. Rachel felt more alive than she had ever done in the Nest.

After eight rounds of I Spy with Emmy, the train rolled into the town of Vernutzad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The origins of Rachel's camera are loosely based on [chapter 10](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12270642/chapters/27978777) of Glowbug's one-shot collection, [Fragments](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12270642)—also the ficlet that got us talking about what an awesome mother Rachel would be to Emmy!


	3. Chapter 3

Vernutzad’s most functional facility was its tiny station. Most of the town, Rachel saw as they rushed down the one and only street, was undergoing reconstruction. Targent couldn’t take all of the blame – the town had been left ravaged by two world wars.

Rachel couldn’t believe the patrol guards had bought their story about going shopping in Vernutzad, considering how dire trade was here.

According to a lopsided, sloppily-written sign, there was a single shop next to a boarded-up building. Emmy walked under the sign easily, whereas Rachel had to duck to get in. Rachel paused to survey the inside. It looked more like someone’s house than a shop…

A cough made her turn. Behind a counter (or rather, a dining table) stood a shopkeeper with long red hair. Rachel greeted them with a nod and followed Emmy straight into the food section. She wrinkled her nose at a basket stuffed with rotting fruit and veg. Thankfully, there were stacks of cans nearby: Spinach, baked beans, sardines and… peaches. (That was one meal Emmy would like.)

Rachel’s bag was already making her shoulder sore, so she traded it for a scruffy army backpack. Emmy helped her pile the cans into the backpack, along with the rest of their supplies, and bring it to the counter.

The shopkeeper said something in a language Rachel couldn’t place by ear. It might have been Polish—or possibly Hungarian…

“What was that?” Emmy hissed, looking up at Rachel. The shopkeeper repeated her statement, voice rising at the end. A question.

Rachel shook her head, pointed at the backpack and pulled out her money.

The shopkeeper sighed, but accepted her payment, removed the price tag from the backpack and let them go without a problem. Still, Rachel inspected the backpack when they were safely outside. The first things she saw were a yellow ribbon and a note on the back of the discarded price tag. She was able to translate the writing in Polish: _‘For the young lady.’_

She gave the ribbon to Emmy, who tied it around Stella’s neck in a bow as they returned to the station. Targent wasn’t on their tails yet, but they couldn’t loiter here. They studied the list of train times and Emmy pointed at their next destination. “How about here…?”

What followed were two days of train-hopping and head-ducking until they reached Vienna.

Rachel had always wanted to visit Austria’s capital… but she hadn’t imagined it would be this packed. She held Emmy’s arm in an iron grip as they waded through Wien Westbahnhof train station. She had forgotten how much culture, how much _life_ , thrived beyond the Nest. It was quite overwhelming…

The air was hot from so many bodies pressing together. People were coughing, sweating and smoking— all shoving against them. Fortunately, they were swept out of the station and Rachel could breathe more easily. Emmy released her hand, allowing Rachel put her palm on her chest.

There were several commercial stalls around them, probably attracted by the wave of visitors. One was selling newspapers. Rachel squinted at the front page of a German paper. It announced the arrival of a foreign ambassador…    

“No wonder it’s so busy today,” she observed.

Emmy didn’t answer. Rachel’s head spun. _“Emmy?”_ The crowd continued to flow around her, but there was no trace of Emmy's poofy pigtails, her yellow sweater, or Holly the Hippo.

_No, no, please, no…_

“Aunt Rachel!” she heard from over by a stall.

She tore through the crowd and caught Emmy. Her heart was pounding, but she kept her voice low. “Don’t _ever_ leave me like that.” What if a stranger had grabbed her? Or if she had gotten lost? Rachel wondered how long she would have coped before she rushed back to Leon and begged him to find Emmy.    

“S-sorry,” Emmy mumbled. “I just saw the sweet stall…”

Hoping she hadn’t made too much of a scene, Rachel looked up at the ‘Lipski Family Confectionary’ stall. A man and a woman were watching them. Rachel stammered out an apology in German.

The man tipped his white toque. “It is no problem, Miss,” he replied in English. “We have little ones at home.”

Rachel was unnerved at how quickly he had picked up on her accent. The woman whispered something to him and he said, “My wife asked what you would like to buy?”

“Oh!” Emmy pressed her nose up against the stall’s glass container. She pointed at the confectionaries she wanted. “Can I have a lollypop, some fruit pastels and chocolate bananas— _please?”_ This was partly aimed at Rachel, along with puppy-dog eyes. Rachel doubted they would meet a dentist on their travels, but she couldn’t resist.

“Alright. I’ll also have a marzipan elephant…”

As Emmy put her sweets inside Holly the Hippo, Mr. Lipski hummed. “You are tourists, eh?”

Rachel nodded. “We’re just passing through the city.”

“Passing through… like ambassador?”

“Isn’t he staying in Vienna?” Rachel said.

“No, yes.” Lipski waved his hand. “He is travelling with family to _Al’py—_ ”  

“The Alps?” Rachel gasped. Emmy and the Lipskis stared as she pulled out her map of Europe and studied it for a moment. She beamed at the Lipskis. “Than— Danke schoen!”

“We’re going already…?” Emmy said as Rachel hurried her away.

“To the mountains. Somewhere Targent won’t find us.” It was the last place Leon would think to look. Both of them knew the risk excessive exercise and high altitudes posed to her body. But she had already made it further than she ever could have dreamed…

Maybe she and Emmy wouldn’t need to climb that far into the mountains— just far enough to avoid Targent’s reach. Surely, there had to be settlements on the way up, so they could always stop to rest if there was a problem.

Rachel led Emmy down paved stone walkways, weaving in and out of the throng until she spotted people holding fancy shopping bags and finally, a department store.

“We’ll need hiking boots, warm coats, and the correct gear,” Rachel listed as they went inside. Hopefully, the remainder of her funds would cover the costs. She would have to take some photos before they left Vienna.  

Emmy’s eyes widened at the airy, animated shop floor. “Wow…”

Rachel smiled. Now  _this_  was a shopping trip.

They couldn’t spend time trying on different outfits, listening to music, or playing with cuddly toys out on display. The ambassador would be leaving Vienna soon and they couldn’t afford to get caught in the mob that would follow him.  

After purchasing their gear and eating a light lunch, they returned to Wien Westbahnhof. Some of the furor had dissipated from the streets, allowing Rachel to snap photos of the sights they passed.

She had just enough money for two tickets to Mariazell, a town at the eastern end of the Alps.

It took three hours to get there, with Emmy bouncing in her seat and gazing out the window for the entire journey. In her excitement, she almost forgot to finish her sweets from the Lipskis. (Almost.) This would be her first time visiting a mountain range.

Rachel had never step foot in the Alps, but she had survived several mountain expeditions with Leon. One year, they had taken the boys to the Scottish Highlands…

“I can see the  _mountains!”_

Emmy’s elation was infectious. A smile tugged at Rachel’s lips.

They entered a valley and Mariazell’s station. Emmy leapt to her feet. She rushed to the carriage doors, but made sure to hold on for Rachel.

While Mariazell was nowhere near as busy as Vienna, it was a popular choice for pilgrims and skiers, by the looks of it.

A party laden with skiing equipment passed them, chatting in German. Rachel asked if they knew the easiest route to travel up the mountains. She was advised to take the cable car from the valley station. Much to her relief, they wouldn’t have to climb for over a thousand meters.

The cable car was just a few minutes away from the town centre. Rachel let some other travellers cut ahead so she and Emmy would have a car to themselves.

Emmy hesitated slightly when the doors of their green car slid open. How would she find the ascent? She was used to clambering into high places, be it the top kitchen cupboard or Obsidian Tower, but never anywhere like this.  

Rachel assured her it was as safe as the tram system in the Nest. Gripping the straps of her backpack and Stella the bunny, Emmy crept into the car after her.

By the time they were in the air, with the town, the trees and the valley beneath them, Emmy was beaming from ear to ear.      

According to the map, there was a village two miles from the cable car’s first stop. They weren’t too high up and it wasn’t cold enough for them encounter snow (at least, she couldn’t see any ski slopes nearby).

It was Rachel’s turn to hesitate when the car stopped and they emerged onto a cliff. The land was green and lush with autumn-tinged trees, but they were high enough to touch tendrils of mist. Wrapping her her coat around her, Rachel took a steadying breath. They could make it to the village before nightfall. They had to. 

She flashed Emmy a determined smile and the two of them started hiking.


	4. Chapter 4

“Aunt Rachel! Look, this one’s pretty!” Emmy held up a scarlet maple leaf.

Aunt Rachel laughed. “You have a lot of pretty leaves now.”

“Yep!” She added the leaf to her growing handful and trotted down the hiking trail. The leaves in the Nest were all kind of brown, nowhere _near_ this pretty. She’d seen more trees and more colors on the cable car ride than she’d ever thought could be in one place.

But she’d never known the world outside the Nest would be so _big_. Aunt Rachel had taken them to a shop with six floors! Emmy hoped sometime they could go back; they had passed lots of pretty clothes and a toy section bigger than their entire flat back home, but there hadn’t been time to shop for anything but coats and boots.

Delightfully clompy boots. Emmy hopped and skipped until she spotted another pretty leaf. “This one too, auntie!”

“Slow down!” Aunt Rachel plodded around the bend Emmy had just taken at a gallop, her hand on her chest. “I can hardly keep up with you.”

“Sorry.” Emmy ran back to her. “Want a leaf?”

This one was yellow. Aunt Rachel smiled and tucked it into Emmy’s hair. “Stand still. I’ll take your picture.”

Three hours and a break for peanut butter sandwiches later, the sun began to set and Emmy had so many leaves she could hardly carry them all. Her new boots were getting kind of heavy though, and so was Holly the Hippo. “Are we almost there, Aunt Rachel?”

No answer.

“…Aunt Rachel?” Emmy turned around.

No Aunt Rachel. A few dozen yards away, the empty path disappeared around the side of the mountain.

Emmy dropped all her leaves and _ran_ back to the bend. _“Aunt Rachel?!”_

There, just down the slope. Aunt Rachel was bent half over, bracing her hands on her knees, wheezing. Emmy skidded to a stop in front of her. “Auntie! Are you okay?”

“Emmy…” Aunt Rachel tried to smile at her. “I—think—I should—sit down.”

“There’s a big rock right up there!” Emmy pointed. Aunt Rachel took her arm and they climbed back up past the bend in the path and to the boulder, step by scarily slow step.

“Can you find—my spare inhaler—sweetheart? In—the bag—“

Emmy nodded, helping her aunt out of the big brown-and-green backpack. She rummaged through the outside pockets first—Aunt Rachel tried to keep her breathing medicine where she could get to it easily—there. Her fingers closed around the little blue breathing-chute-thingy. The medicine bottle was already in it. She shook the whole thing, pulled off the cap, and handed it to Aunt Rachel, who took a deep puff.

Okay. She’d had her breathing medicine. She was going to be okay now… right?

Uncle Leon had taught her that when Aunt Rachel had trouble breathing, the best thing was to hold still and not startle her, but keep paying attention. Emmy did that now, sitting atop the pack. Aunt Rachel continued to lean forward where she sat on the rock, breathing with her mouth open. One of Emmy’s abandoned leaves was in easy reach, yellow like the one in her hair. She picked that up and twirled it, waiting.

Aunt Rachel took another breath from the inhaler, and reached down to ruffle Emmy’s hair. “Thank you… sweetie. I… I overdid it.”

Emmy let out a big breath of her own.

Aunt Rachel fumbled the map out of her pocket, still holding onto her medicine. “Can you do something—else for me? There’s—” She paused, still gasping a little. “There should be a—village, just a little—further up.” She pointed. “Run ahead—see if you can—find it, okay?”

“But what about—shouldn’t I stay with you?”

“I need to rest.” (A third puff.) “And we can’t—stay out here all night.”

“Oh,” Emmy managed to say. She reached for Stella, who was sticking up out of Holly the Hippo’s head, and hugged her close.

“Can you be brave? And go get help?”

Emmy swallowed hard and nodded.

Aunt Rachel smiled. “Here, set your watch by mine—” Emmy did. “If you don’t see anything in—half an hour, turn around and come back. Stay on the path. I’ll be fine—right here.”

“Okay,” Emmy said, very very softly. She put Stella in Aunt Rachel’s lap, then ran up the path as fast as she could.

At first she didn’t see anything but shadowy trees and rocks and the pink-and-orange streaks of sunset. She kept running, even when she got a stitch in her side and her legs started to burn like her blood had turned to lemon juice.

Aunt Rachel couldn’t be that sick. She hadn’t been really sick in a long time anyway. Not like when Uncle Leon had first brought Emmy home, when she had mostly stayed in bed or sat on the couch watching television. Emmy hadn’t minded; she’d thought grown-ups weren’t to be trusted. (How could they be, when her daddy had gone away without her?) The closest she’d gotten to Aunt Rachel for weeks was peeking over the back of the couch to watch _Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood._

That had changed the day Aunt Rachel started gasping and didn’t have enough breathing medicine, and Emmy had gone running to get Uncle Leon.

She couldn’t get Uncle Leon now even if she’d wanted to. But Aunt Rachel wouldn’t have to go to the hospital again, would she? _Was_ there even a hospital here?

The path turned sharply, skirting a huge meadow. It would take her a long time to go all the way around, but on the other side—lights. Houses. _People._

Emmy veered off into the field without slowing down. Grass was squishy, harder to run on, but if she cut across and knocked on one of the doors—

“Baaaa!” A fuzzy white shape, as big as Emmy or maybe bigger, materialized in front of her. She was going too fast. She ran right into it and fell sideways into the grass.

“Go away!”

“Baaaa.” The white thing pushed its—nose?—into her face. Emmy squeaked.

“Lass meine Schafe in Ruhe!” a voice called out. “Du solltest nicht hier draußen sein, es ist fast Abend. Pah. Kinder…”

Someone pulled the white fuzzy creature away, and Emmy found herself looking up at an equally fuzzy but (she was happy to see) very human face.

“Moment mal—du kommst nicht aus Hoogland…”

What had he said? Was she in trouble? Maybe not; the man looked like a very confused Father Christmas. Emmy sat up. Some of Uncle Leon’s scholars had spoken German… “Um. _Hilfe?_ _Bitte?”_ She couldn’t remember any more words. “My auntie’s sick,” she blurted out in English, “and I don’t know what to do.”

“Sprichst du nicht Deutsch? Hmm.” Father Christmas scratched his beard, then turned and shouted. “Beatrix!”

“Hier bin ich, Papa.” A black-haired woman, grown up but still younger than Aunt Rachel, stepped out of the lengthening shadows. “Meine Güte! Woher kommst du, kleines Mädchen?”

“Sie sprach auf Englisch,” the man said. “Kannst du…?”

“Oh…” Father Christmas’s daughter knelt down in front of Emmy. “Are you lost?” she asked slowly, in English.

Emmy shook her head. Maybe they _were_ lost, but that wasn’t the problem. “I need help for my auntie,” she repeated. “She got tired and needed her breathing medicine and now she can’t walk any further.”

“Where is she now?” Beatrix asked.

Emmy pointed back down the path.

Beatrix helped her up. “Papa, wir müssen der Tante dieses Mädchens helfen.”

“Stimmt das?” Father Christmas looked Emmy over. She had grass in her hair. “Ich gehe. Nimm die Kleine nach Hause. Sie muss müde sein.”

“Ja, doch, Papa. —Papa will go find your aunt,” Beatrix told her. “You should come with me and rest.”

“But Aunt Rachel’s going to be worried—“

“She’ll be fine. Papa will bring her straight back here.”

“Baaaaaa,” said the sheep right in Emmy’s ear. She jumped. Beatrix laughed.

“Don’t worry. She’s a good girl. She won’t hurt you.”

Emmy wanted to see Aunt Rachel _now,_ but she was cold and wobbly after all that running. “Her name is Rachel Br—uh—Rachel Altava,” she told Father Christmas, and let Beatrix take her hand. “And m-mine is Emmy.”

She couldn’t exactly remember what her name had been before Uncle Leon and Aunt Rachel, before the grayish time when she’d been all alone, but “Emmy Altava” sounded about right.


	5. Chapter 5

“Mummy…”

Rachel inhaled, cringed as everything ached, and opened her eyes. After a few blinks, she realised it was Emmy snuggled beside her. The two of them were in a bed. But where…? 

Careful not to disturb Emmy or strain her neck too much, Rachel lifted her head. They were in a plain room sporting pale green walls. What little furniture there was— a bedside table, a stool, and a chest of drawers— appeared to be made of pinewood. Above the drawers were several books, a small flute, neatly piled clothes, and Rachel and Emmys’ backpacks. Her inhaler, however, had been left on the bedside table within easy reach.

The fog started to clear from her mind. That’s right… A man and his daughter had let them stay at their house. Rachel pictured a white beard and dark hair, but struggled to remember names from the stress of last night. 

If Emmy hadn’t gone to find help… If she hadn’t encountered two kind strangers… That asthma attack might well have killed Rachel. Then Emmy would have been left alone in the world. Rachel’s short-sightedness had endangered them both.

“Mum,” Emmy mumbled again. Rachel glanced at her in surprise. She was still asleep… at least, until someone tapped on the bedroom door and a woman’s voice called, “Hallo?”

“Um, come in,” Rachel said. (It felt odd, considering the room wasn’t theirs.)

There was a yawn from Emmy as a young woman entered. Emmy shot up in bed when she saw Rachel was awake. “You’re okay?” She flung her arms open for a hug, but reconsidered it and kissed Rachel on the head.

“Thanks to you,” Rachel replied, smiling faintly. She looked at the woman, who placed a tray of eggs, toast and milk on the bedside table. “And you—”

“Danke, Beatrix!” Emmy got up to grab some toast.

“Have as much as you want,” Beatrix chuckled. Her mirth faded when she studied Rachel. “How are you feeling now?”

“Tired and aching, but much better than I was.”

“That’s a relief! We were worried you would be affected by the sheep’s wool…”

As if in response, they heard a chorus of ‘Baaaa’s from outside. Beatrix opened some curtains and a window, letting in a fresh breeze. Now Rachel noticed a field of sheep with an old man herding them around. Emmy waved to him, even if he couldn’t see her. 

Rachel admitted, “I over-exerted myself yesterday— was it yesterday?” Beatrix nodded and Rachel sighed with relief. Surely, Targent wouldn’t catch up with them any time soon. But they couldn’t stay for too long without putting their hosts in harm’s way… 

Beatrix pointed at their breakfast. “Try it— it’ll help you get your strength back.”

Rachel thanked her once more and Beatrix went out, shutting the door behind her.

As they tucked into breakfast, Rachel asked Emmy how much she had told Beatrix and Nikolaus. She had just given their names— “Rachel and Emmy Altava!” she repeated proudly— and said they were travelling until Rachel got poorly.

“Good girl. We shouldn’t tell them where we’re from or why we left…” 

Munching on a piece of toast, Emmy looked out the window. “Chomp… Are we going to stay here?” 

Rachel followed her gaze to a red-roofed barn, the rolling fields and the fringes of a forest. Being farmers, Beatrix and her father seemed to live on the edge of town. Who knew what the rest of the town was like? 

Taking in a breath of clean air, Rachel sighed. “We won’t be going anywhere until I’m stronger.”

“Don’t worry, Auntie!” Emmy stacked their plates. “I’ll help you!”

Now she was ‘Auntie’ again… Rachel chuckled and rested her head against the pillows. Where would I be without you, Emmy?

By late afternoon, Rachel was determined to get out of bed. (The sheep were making quite a din…) She exchanged her hiking gear for comfier clothes and followed Emmy out of the bedroom. 

A kettle was piping over the fireplace, casting the outer room in a orange glow. Shadows stretched from the rocking chair before the fire. Creaking, the figure in the chair turned his head to them. It was Beatrix’s father. Rachel was reminded of last night, when she had almost mistaken him for a yeti. 

“Hi, Nikolaus,” Emmy said.

Something small, white and fuzzy popped up at his feet. Emmy released a squeal and the lamb leapt out of Nikolaus’s grasp. Nikolaus cursed (a word Emmy wouldn’t understand) and dropped the bottle he had been carrying. 

“No, Heidi…!”

Instantly, Emmy was on her knees, laughing as ‘Heidi’ licked her hand. Rachel held on to Heidi as Nikolaus rushed towards to them. 

“You’re not… allergic to her?” he puffed, picking Heidi up. 

Rachel shook her head. “It was all the— um…” She took a moment to find the right word in German. “The… hiking that did me in yesterday.” 

“Wandern…?” Nikolaus tutted. “You gave us quite a scare—“

“Can— can I feed her?” Emmy breathed. 

Brows furrowing, he glanced from Emmy to Rachel. Rachel translated Emmy’s request. He hummed at Heidi. “She’s only two weeks old, but she has a strong kick…” Heidi wriggled as if she wanted to prove his point. 

“Emmy’s stronger than she looks,” Rachel assured him. 

“You’ll need to be gentle as well.” 

Emmy nodded and followed Nikolaus to the rocking chair. He retrieved the milk bottle, shook it and handed it to Emmy. He titled Heidi’s head back, letting her stand up as Emmy gave her the bottle. Rachel and Emmy couldn’t help smiling at the suckling noises Heidi made. Within moments, the milk was gone. Heidi bleated and butted Emmy’s leg. 

Nikolaus said, “Settle down now, Heidi.“

Heidi settled down for about half an hour before Beatrix got home.

“I’m back - oh!” Beatrix almost dropped a paper shopping bag as Heidi shot over to her. She manoeuvred the bag in one arm and patted Heidi’s head. “I see you’ve met Heidi, our little orphan lamb.” 

“She’s an orphan?” Emmy gasped as they came to assist Beatrix. 

“Her mother was a young and sickly ewe - she died during the birth,” Nikolaus sighed. Rachel swallowed. At that point, she was grateful for the language barrier between him and Emmy. 

“Mutter…?” Emmy repeated. She stroked Heidi’s coat. “Did something happen to her mother?”

Beatrix softened Nikolaus’s words. “We lost her… But Heidi’s doing brilliantly now! She’s getting bigger and greedier every day, aren’t you?” she said as Heidi sniffed the air. 

Emmy poked Heidi on the nose. “I just fed her!”

“You did? Well done! I think we’ve earned some lunch now.”

Rachel offered to help. (She couldn’t stand the thought of wasting away in bed again…) Thankfully, Beatrix didn’t refuse her. Heidi, on the other hand, was not allowed anywhere near the food. Nikolaus returned her to her pen outside, promising Emmy could visit her later. 

On the kitchen countertop across the room, Beatrix emptied the shopping bag. She pulled out some vegetables for Rachel to cut— after washing her hands— and a pile of clothes, which she presented to Emmy.

“I wasn’t sure how much clothes you had brought, and it can get terribly cold at this time of year. So, I visited the tailors in town and told them about you. Rachel’s eyes widened. Beatrix went on hurriedly, “Their daughter, Romilda kindly gave me some of her old clothes for Emmy.” 

Emmy pulled a wooly pink jumper over her head. “It’s too long… but warm.”

Rachel rolled up the sleeves. “You’ll have to thank Romilda when you get the chance.” 

“Yep! I’m going to show Heidi and Nikolaus!”

When Emmy ran outside, Rachel resumed her vegetable cutting. Beatrix grabbed the kettle from the fireplace and filled a pan with water. They worked in silence, until Beatrix moved to the sink and exclaimed, “Is this your ring?”

It had a silver band with a blue gem in the centre. Leon had often claimed it was a sapphire, though, some days it was a diamond… 

Rachel glared at the ring— the one part of him she hadn’t been able to leave behind. No matter how hard she had tried to throw it away these past few days, there was always some reason holding her back. What if Targent picked it up on their trails? What if they were low on funds and needed to sell it? What if the gem was of Azran origin…?

Now she just sounded like him. 

She buried the ring in her pocket and turned back to the chopping board. 

When it was time to boil the vegetables, Beatrix finally spoke. “I… wasn’t sure what size you are, so I didn’t want to pick anything out from the tailors. But if there’s anything you would like, just let me know.” 

“I will, thank you.”

“And when you’re well enough, you can see it for yourself. And you have to visit the bakery…”

Rachel absorbed every word about their rustic idyllic life. Hoogland sounded perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

Beatrix had told Emmy there was a sheep pen around the back of her house. “We’ll put Heidi there for now so she gets used to being outside... and so she doesn’t eat the soup ingredients!”

Her new sweater sleeves flapped from the ends of her hands, keeping them warm.

“Ah! Du siehst schön, Kindchen!”

“Hallo, Mr. Nikolaus. Look, I have a new jumper!” Emmy spun around to show him.

Nikolaus’s eyes crinkled. (Even his name was like Father Christmas!) “Möchtest du auch Heidi sehen?”

Emmy hopped up on the bottom fence rail. “Heidi?”

“Maaaa!” came from a little shed in the corner of the pen. There she was!

“Heidi! I’m all woolly now, just like you!”

Heidi streaked up to her, tail flipping happily. “Maaaa! Maa, maa!” She sniffed at Emmy’s new attire, then nibbled at the end of one sleeve.

“Heidi!” Nikolaus cried. “Hör auf damit!” Emmy giggled, extricating her sweater. She pushed the too-long sleeve up her arm so she could pet Heidi’s head.

“Maaa?” Heidi licked her fingers.

Emmy giggled again. “I haven’t got any more milk! I’m not your mummy.” She reached out to pet Heidi some more. The little lamb was softer than a whole pile of blankets.

“I know a song about you,” Emmy told her. “Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb, Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow!”

“Maaaa.”

“Sie mag dich.” Nikolaus leaned over the fence to scratch Heidi’s ears.

“Does she get cold?” Emmy asked. “Being outside?”

“Kalt?” Nikolaus frowned, rubbing Heidi’s nose. He shook his head. “Noch nicht, aber sie kann diesen Winter nicht bei der Herde bleiben. Sie ist zu klein.” Heidi butted his hand.

Winter? What happened in winter? Emmy flapped her sleeves back and forth, then had an idea. “I’ll be right back!” She ran into the house.

She could hear Aunt Rachel and Beatrix in the kitchen, but the bedroom Beatrix had given them last night was quiet. (Despite her best efforts, Emmy had fallen asleep before Aunt Rachel got there with Nikolaus. But now—now everything was going to be okay.)

Her old yellow sweater was draped over a chair. Emmy grabbed it and ran back to the sheep pen.

“Here, Heidi!” She gathered the sweater up in her hands and pulled open the neck hole, like Aunt Rachel had done when Emmy was smaller. Heidi sniffed at the fabric curiously, until Emmy tried to put the sweater over her head and she danced backwards, bleating.

“It’s to keep you warm,” Emmy tried to explain. Heidi eyed her suspiciously.

Nikolaus chuckled. “Nicht so, Kleiner.” He climbed into the pen, scooping up the little lamb. “Lass mich dir helfen.” He held Heidi still (well, sort of) while Emmy put the sweater on her. She had to roll up the sleeves a lot—Heidi’s little legs were too short for them.

“There you go!”

“Maaaa!” Heidi wriggled out of Nikolaus’s arms, running in circles around the pen.

“Na ja, sie wird sicherlich nicht kalt bekommen.” Nikolaus smiled at Emmy.

“Halloooo!” a new voice called out. Emmy turned around; there was an older girl on the path, carrying a basket and waving at them. “Wie geht es Ihnen, Herr Nikolaus?”

“Tag, Romilda!”

Emmy hid behind Nikolaus. She’d seen some other children on the train trip with Aunt Rachel, but hadn’t talked to any of them. There hadn’t been any in the Nest at all…

“Mama hat mich geschickt. Wir fanden einige meiner alten Spielzeug für das kleine Mädchen—oh!” Romilda peered around Nikolaus’s bulky form. “Hallo! Bist du Emmy?”

Emmy stared up at her. “Hi…”

“Sie spricht nur Englisch,” Nikolaus explained.

Romilda knelt down to Emmy’s level. “I’m sorry—I thought you spoke German. My name is Romilda. Are you Emmy?”

Emmy nodded.

“Maaa!” Heidi came running up to the fence.

“Hallo, Heidi.” Romilda petted her. “Do you like sheep, Emmy?”

Emmy wasn’t sure. The sheep she’d met yesterday had been _much_ bigger. “I like Heidi. That’s my old jumper she’s wearing.”

“It’s very pretty!” Romilda held out the basket. “I brought you some… was ist Wort _…_ playthings?”

“Toys?” Uncle Leon had put away most of her toys months ago. “I get to have toys again?”

Romilda smiled and pulled the cover off the basket. “They were my old toys, but I don’t play with them anymore. You can have them if you want.”

Emmy felt her eyes go wide. “Wow…” There were _three_ dolls, a teddy bear, and a stuffed elephant and a whole set of toy dishes! “Can they have a tea party with Stella?”

“Stella?” Romilda asked.

“My bunny rabbit,” Emmy explained. “She’s a ninja ballerina.”

“Natürlich!” Romilda stood up. “What’s a… nin-ja?”

“Like this!” Emmy made sure to get a few feet away from everything. (Uncle Leon had always been mad if she broke stuff by accident.) “Hiiiiii- _yah!”_ Ninja kicks were her favorite part of karate.

“Wow!” said Romilda.

“Vorsicht, Kleiner,” said Nikolaus, “du könntest—“

 _“Baaaaaaa,”_ rang out very loudly from directly behind Emmy. She squeaked and ran to Nikolaus. When she looked, it was the big sheep again, pulling up a mouthful of grass and looking distinctly pleased with itself.

“Hab keine Angst.” Nikolaus put an arm around her shoulders. “Es ist nur Schnüffelchen.”

“Baaaaaaa,” said the sheep in question.

“She’s very big,” Emmy whispered loudly.

“Don’t worry.” Romilda rubbed “Schnüffelchen’s” big nose. “She likes to put her nose into everything, but she’s friendly. She probably likes you.”

Emmy tried to say it. “Shufflechin, Snufflechen… um… could I call her Nosey?”

“Baaaa.” Nosey trotted up to Emmy, as if in approval.

“Mach schon.” Nikolaus nudged her.

Emmy reached out very carefully and petted Nosey’s nose.


	7. Chapter 7

After two days of bed rest, Beatrix’s cooking and tea parties by the fire, Rachel felt more than ready to get out of the house. (She was starting to understand why Heidi hated being cooped up in her pen.)

Emmy had already explored some of Hoogland with Romilda, but today Romilda had offered to give them an official tour.

Rachel managed to climb the slope overlooking the sheep farm. When they reached the top, however, she was almost knocked over by a breeze.

“I’m alright,” she gasped as Emmy and Romilda hung on to her arms.

She closed her eyes and breathed in, savouring the air that flowed through her lungs. It was soothing... liberating.

Romilda gave her a minute before leading them past a small house with a brown roof. “That’s the, um... lumberjack’s house.” Thankfully, Romilda was learning English at school. There was no need to translate the tour for Emmy.

“And that’s one of the windmills!” Emmy added as if she was Romilda’s assistant.

“My word!” Craning her head back, Rachel beheld the windmill beside another ledge. Its long red fan contained some holes, but it was still twirling in the light wind.

Vaguely, she remembered a little windmill from her family’s old village. You would never find something so outdated in the Nest- only wind turbines.

Emmy peeked in through the crosshatched window. “It’s very dusty inside...”

“They usually make flour in mills,” Rachel explained.

“Does the mill-person live here?”

“No one’s there at the moment,” Romilda said. “Frau Blumstein left town years ago.”

“Why did she leave?” Emmy wondered.

“She got married... I think.” Romilda frowned. Rachel crossed her arms. The air seemed chilly all of a sudden. Emmy must have felt it too. She asked if they could go inside. They tried the door but it was locked.

Romilda hummed. “Julien- my friend’s dad might have a spare key. He owns a mill.”

The wind picked up the further they got into town. Emmy clutched Rachel’s hand. “Don’t worry,” Rachel whispered. “I’m not going to blow away-”

“No, look! There’s a cow!” She pointed at a paddock with a water trough and a dozy cow. _“Hallo, Moomy!”_

If Emmy had invented her own name, as she had done for ‘Nosey’, Romilda didn’t correct her. “She makes the best milk in Hoogland. We can buy some from the corner shop.”

As they walked down ‘Windy Way’, Rachel was stunned by the view of houses, windmills and trees nestled amongst the hills. (Next time she would bring her camera!)

The building at the highest point was grey and roundish. Rachel squinted. “What’s that building?”

Romilda followed her gaze. “The chapel...” They came to a fork in the road; one winding slope would take them up to the chapel or they could carry straight on into town. Much to Rachel’s relief, Romilda went straight on.

They passed a green-roofed building, which Romlida gestured to. “Here’s my school!” A metal clock hung above the entrance (11:55- almost time for Heidi’s lunch) and wind chimes swayed from the windows.

Emmy’s eyes lit up at their magical tune. “Can you play music in school?”

“Mama wanted me to play the clarinet,” Romilda snorted. “But I’m happy in the choir.” Emmy shot Rachel an ecstatic look.

Her studies with Targent hadn’t covered music, or art or any interaction with children her own age. How would she find a normal school like this?

Romilda stopped when they reached another turning. “I bet Julien’s at the bakery...” she muttered. She pointed down the empty path and told them, “Miller’s Square is just down there, but most of the shops are down here.”

This was by far the busiest part of Hoogland, with houses and businesses in close proximity. Romilda waved to the people they encountered and introduced them to Rachel and Emmy.

“Have you brought us some travellers, Romilda?” one man with a wheat-coloured hair and a beard asked. (Beards were all the rage in Hoogland.)

“Emmy and Rachel are staying with Beatrix and Nicholas for...” Romilda turned to Rachel. “I forgot to ask- how long will you be here?”

 _‘As long as Targent don’t find us’_ wasn’t the best answer or plan.

How could they live here, knowing Targent could turn up any day? Would they turn the entire town upside down in their search or just storm Nikolaus’s house? Would Nikolaus and Beatrix be blamed for unknowingly harbouring two fugitives?

“Cat got your tongue?” the bearded man laughed.

_Tell us all you know about the legacy and we’ll let your family go._

Rachel stepped back. “I need to sit down...” she said faintly.

“Auntie?” Emmy exclaimed.

She and Romilda guided Rachel over to a bench in front of a shop. While Romilda ran into a shop, Emmy passed Rachel her inhaler. A few bystanders approached them in concern, but Emmy shook her head and waved them away. (They were all so considerate, offering to help when Rachel was making a scene.)

Emmy sat swinging her legs as Rachel struggled to compose herself. The inhaler couldn’t help. Not with the fear.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she sighed. They could never have a normal life. Emmy could never live like a normal girl her age, unless...

“Do you want to stay here?” she murmured.

Emmy didn’t skip a beat. “Sure!”

“Could you stay... with-“ Rachel couldn’t say it. Emmy’s face had already crumpled at the very thought. How could Rachel even consider leaving her?

Rachel amended, “Without worrying?” Sniffling, Emmy nodded. Rachel gave her a side-hug.

Another minute and Romilda returned, armed with bottles of water. A woman with curly ginger hair and a pink feather hat was behind her.

“I’m Mona,” she said. “Romilda’s mother. You need to see the doctor.”

Mona marched her to the doctors surgery- a house more comfortable than any of the hospitals in the Nest- and got her an emergency appointment. Emmy stayed in the waiting room with Romilda and Mona when Rachel was called in.

Dr. Maltz, a mole-like man, listened as Rachel explained her history with asthma and her most recent attack during their travels. She also found herself discussing her depression from past years. Maybe it was because Dr. Maltz didn’t give her prying questions or disapproving looks. He simply sat in his oversized chair, scrawling down notes.

He asked her to blow into a peak flow meter, listened to her chest and counted her pulse. Then, he checked her inhaler and made a record of the medication she had on hand- some, he admitted, that he didn’t recognise. He decided it would suffice for now, but she would need come in for regular checkups. Only Hoogland residents could register with the surgery...

Rachel returned to the waiting room, holding a registration form. She almost dropped it when Emmy leapt up to hug her.

Romilda stood up and stretched. “I could use a cup of coffee...”

Mona tutted. “You’re too young to be drinking coffee.” She smiled at Rachel and Emmy. “Do you want to come back to our house for coffee- or tea?”

"Papa will look after the shop," Romilda added.

Rachel looked at Emmy, who nodded. “Coffee would be great,” Rachel agreed.


End file.
